Lost Fairytales
by wanderinggypsyfeet
Summary: Belle Gold, librarian, sees it as her duty to make sure that the children of Storybrooke have a wide variety of books to choose from. When Mr. Gold, local beast, is overdue on a book of fairytales, Belle decides to track him down. She can't know that a book of fairytales will pale in comparisons to the stories Mr. Gold tells her. A three part drabble, Rumbelle-centric, with Snowing
1. Chapter 1

**AN:** Yup, ok, still in love with these guys. New prompt, new story!

Prompt: You're overdue on this book and I want it so I'm tracking you down. Featuring 'no magic AU'.

* * *

Belle French isn't scared of anything. Ok, sure, the spiders that linger in the storeroom of the library have been known to make her scream on more than one occasion. And sure, when there was a rat in her apartment, she had to call her ex-boyfriend, hysterical, to get it out. And yes, she does not like heights, but that's not being scared, that's just having common sense.

But she isn't scared of anything else. Not flying or trying new foods or the ocean or tight spaces. And certainly not people. So when David comes in, looking for a book that has been overdue for two months, Belle loses her temper.

"Belle, Belle, Belle," David's trying to stop her from storming out of the library. "It's not that important!"

"Yes, it is." She says firmly. "It's overdue! I don't know why he even checked it out in the first place. It's a children's book David, full of fairy tales. What does he need it for?"

"I don't know." David's solid form tries to prevent her from leaving. "But maybe, you know, you just buy a new one?"

"I am not." She says stoutly. "It's a perfectly good book. I know where it is. Why don't I just go get it back?"

"Who's going to mind the library?" David points out desperately, as Belle bundles up against the chilly Maine breeze.

"Easy." She flips around a sign that cheerfully declares the library is closed and she'll be back in ten minutes. "There."

"Belle." David finally grabs her shoulders. "Let it go ok? Let Gold go. Let him have the book. I'll just… Buy the book off Amazon or something."

"David." Belle pats his cheek. "Really, it's sweet. But I'm the librarian, and I'm in charge of getting overdue books back. Really, it's my job. So calm down. I'll just pop over to the pawn shop, ask him nicely if he's lost the book, and if he has, I'll ask he buy a new copy. Simple."

"Expect he's a monster." David says, exasperated.

"He is not." Belle rolls her eyes.

"Easy for you to say, your rent isn't controlled by him." He says darkly. "Emma's is. You know how many times he's threatened to kick her out? She's a single mother for christ's sake, he could have some mercy."

"Well, Emma is a grownup." Belle says gently. She knows how close David's wife, Mary Margaret is, to Emma. In fact, she's practically raised Emma, despite there only being a few years between them. But Emma came from a broken home, and Mary Margaret seemed to need someone to mother.

"She's doing her best." David says sharply. "It doesn't help when Gold's terms are so strict."

"Fine." Belle puts her hands up. "I won't bring up the rent then. I'm just going to ask about the book. His shop is across the street! It'd be pointless for me to not at least ask. And if he, I don't know, threatens to eat me and spit out my bones, then tell Mary Margaret she gets my shoe collection. Ruby's feet are too big anyways."

"Belle!" David trails her out of the library and hovers while she locks the doors. "Don't. He's going to, I don't know, magically produce the deed to the library and threaten you out of your job."

"Impossible." Belle finishes locking it up and turns to a worried David. "He signed the property over as a donation before I even got here. See, he does have a heart. Go order me a chicken sandwich, I'll come have something to eat with you afterwards!"

"Belle!" David watches helplessly as she darts across the street and then into the pawn shop. The bell above her head tinkles and she pauses to let her eyes adjust to the dimness of the shop. It's empty, so she cast a look around, seeing if there's anything she can afford.

"Miss French." Gold's voice is soft, but questioning as he emerges from the back room. "What brings you here?"

"You, sir, have an overdue book." She smiles widely at him, striding up to the counter.

"Do I?" His face folds into confusion for the briefest of seconds, then clears instantly. "I'm afraid you must be wrong. I'd do no such thing."

"Yes, you have." Belle smiles, leaning on the counter. He's got on a gray suit today, with accents of deep red. She likes it. "Although you could convince me that there's been fraud, since it doesn't seem to be a book you'd take out willingly."

"Which is it?" His brow furrows.

"A book of fairy tales." Belle grins. "A little outside your normal preferences, no?"

"Ah," He grimaces. "Forgive me."

"Wait." Belle's eyebrows fly up. "Do you have it?"

"Well," He says, a little sheepishly. "I may."

"Mr. Gold!" Belle's jaw drops. "What?"

"Do give me a chance to explain myself, dearie." He says dryly.

"Please." Belle takes off her coat and slings it on the counter.

"I would be delighted to, but it seems I have other matters to attend to." He says ruefully, when a sharp whistling fills the shop. Belle instantly recognizes it as a tea pot boiling.

"Nonsense. I could use a cuppa. It's brisk out. If you'd care for the company." She smiles widely at him and if he's taken aback by her offer, he covers it graciously.

"I only have black, I'm afraid." He warns her.

"No worries." Belle follows him into the back of the shop, looking around with interest. "I'm never going to turn down tea in any form."

He offers her the nicer of the chairs in the room, while he takes the tea off the stove and moves to pour them two cups. Belle looks about, trying to pick which of the treasures she'd pick if she had the chance, before her vision alights on the most curious item in the whole room- a play pen.

"Yes," He catches where she's looking, handing her a cup. "That is where I keep the children I steal."

"Mr. Gold!" She gasps and the cup slips from her hands.

"It was a quip." He states pointedly and her cheeks flame red, so she bends down to snatch up the cup, cradling it close to her, as if to herself protect from him. "I was kidding, dearie."

"Oh." Trying to steady the trembling smile on her face, Belle inspects the cup and the missing piece from it's rim. "I'm so sorry, I must've chipped it!"

"It's just a cup." He gives her a quizzical look.

"But was it old? Vintage? Expensive?" Belle looks down at it with worry. "A priceless artifact?"

"If it was, do you think I would be likely to use it when I had guests?" He remarks, plucking it from her gasp and sliding her his unmarked cup, refilling the chipped one. To her surprise, he keeps it for himself.

"I wasn't under the impression you had many guests." Belle teases, then instantly shuts up, sure she's stepped out of line. To her surprise, he chuckles.

"No, I do not. Which is why I'm sure when I explain the mystery of the crib and book, you'll be all the more bewildered." He tells her.

"Then please do tell." She takes a sip of the strong brew.

"Well, you see, I have an associate." He begins, taking a sip of his own. "His name is Jefferson, and he is the best at what he does."

"Which is?" Belle pushes.

"Acquiring things of value from very hard to reach places." Gold smiles. "He's got connections a normal man could only dream of. So when I want something, I pay him handsomely to go get it. It's a relationship we've had for many years. Except recently… There's been a catch."

"A catch?" Intrigued, Belle leans forward. "What happened? Did he save a child from the black market?"

"Not quite." He chortles. "He was married young, to a rather wonderful woman. She passed away in childbirth. For a long time, Jefferson would leave the baby with a family member he trusted. However, due his need to relocate, he found himself without childcare. I need his services, he needed a babysitter. So I found myself with a rather energetic companion."

"A baby?" Belle looks at him, dumbfounded. "You watched a baby in here?"

"Only when necessary." He takes a sip, grinning a little at the look on her face. "She usually naps for long stretches in the afternoon. I would bring her here, place her in the play pen, and manage my accounts. But no, usually she was with me at my home. It's better baby-proofed."

"I'm sorry," Belle sets her cup down to gape at him. "But you're telling me that you watch a little baby girl in your spare time, and that's why you had my book?"

"Yes." He answers mildly and when she's stunned into silence, he explains a little further. "Her name is Grace, and I assure you, she's one of the very few people in this world who don't think I'm terribly beastly."

"Oh." That brings Belle out of her thoughts. "I don't think you're beastly!"

"No?" He raises an eyebrow. "So you do not hold with what the Nolan's and Miss Swan and the rest of the town says about me?"

"No." Belle says firmly, picking her cup back up. "You've always been civil to me when you've came to get books. You even offered to drive me home in the rain after the mining festival a couple years ago, do you remember?"

"Of course." He hides a smile by getting up and pouring another cup of tea. "You were not dressed for the weather, I was sure you'd catch a cold."

"I was fine." Belle waves a hand. "I always seem to run hot anyways."

"Like a little sun." He mummers and she tilts her head, a little surprised. "But let us focus back on the task at hand, shall we?"

"Oh, of course." Taken aback, Belle falls silent.

"I have an overdue book, and I'm sure a fine. I'll return the book promptly tomorrow morning and pay my fine. Is that acceptable?" He asks and Belle nods.

"Don't worry about the fine, honestly, it's not a big deal."

"No," He says, surprisingly gentle. "No, it would only be right. Perhaps you can use it to enhance the children's section. Grace will soon exhaust all the fairy tales."

"That would be nice." She admits. "Neal, that's the Nolan's son, loves fairy tales. So does Henry."

"Henry, that's Emma Swan's boy." Gold says carefully and Belle nods. "He is a good boy."

"He is." Belle thinks happily of all of Henry's visits to her in the library, eager to find a new adventure. "Lately he's been drifting towards action books."

"Could you tell me the reading preferences of every child in this town, Miss French?" He asks dryly.

"Perhaps." Belle raises an eyebrow. "As I'm sure you could tell me the deepest town gossip."

"Perhaps." He responds to her challenge with a dip of his head. "But I do have to ask you to keep all mentions of Grace to yourself. As you can understand, Jefferson has made more than one unsavory acquaintance during his time. It would not benefit anyone if word got out that his child was being minded by a cripple."

"I think," Belle's gaze falls on his cane, then moves to a high shelf where several antique pistols rest. "That you're quite capable of protecting yourself. But of course, you have my word."

"Thank you." He tilts his head and Belle finishes off her tea. "I will see you tomorrow morning then."

"Sounds good." Belle gets up, extending her hand. "Thank you for the tea, it was wonderful."

"Of course." A little slowly, he shakes her hand. "You'd, of course, be welcome to come back for more."

"I may take you up on that offer." Belle glances around the back room. "There's enough here to keep me occupied for ages."

He bows his head and shows her out. She swings on her coat and scarf, heading towards Granny's with thoughts swirling. Gold, watching a baby. Gold, with a toddler on his knee, reading her stories. Gold, gently placing her sleeping form in a play pen, covering her with a blanket, hushing her when she fusses. Belle would give her apartment to see these scenes.

"Hey, you're alive!" David says cheerfully, when Belle blows into the diner. She makes a face at him, sliding in the booth next to him and beaming at Neal, who's sitting next to his mother.

"Did you get the book back?" Mary Margaret demands, as Ruby brings Belle her customary iced tea.

"Oh, yeah." Belle bluffs. "Yeah, he checked it out as research on a piece in the shop and forgot he had it. Come in tomorrow afternoon, I'll have it all ready for Neal for his bedtime story."

"I still can't believe you just did that." Ruby shakes her head.

"He's a good guy." Belle says defensively, then hastily changes the subject.

The next morning, she checks the depository box. Inside sits the book of fairy tales. Smiling, she flips it open and sees the envelope stuck there. She takes it out, admiring the beautiful sloping handwriting that addresses it to a one 'Belle French'. She unfolds the paper inside, reading the brief note.

 _'Thank you for the afternoon tea. It was delightful. Please accept my most sincere apologies for keeping this book so long. May it bring the other children of Storybrooke as much joy as it brought Grace. Perhaps in the future I can ask your recommendations for new volumes._

 _Sincerely,_

 _Mr. Gold'_

She smiles and tucks the letter aside, looking at the other item in the envelope- a check, written for double the amount of the fine, and signed by Mr. Gold. She stares at it, agape, then flips it to the back, where a short note has been written.

 _'Amends for keeping such wondrous tales from the children of Storybrooke.'_

"What a man." Belle mutters, tucking both letter and check where they'll be safe.

* * *

Gold takes a deep breath, trying to get a grip. He's covered in vomit, Grace is still screaming in his arms, and the macaroni and cheese on the stove is burning. He needs help.

Of course, when Jefferson had waffled at leaving Grace for two weeks to go to Greece, Gold had waved a hand. No problem, he had declared. Grace and I get along well enough. Never mind that the longest he'd ever watched her was four days. And never mind that she'd been a little under the weather when Jefferson had dropped her off. He'd thought he could handle it.

But he's seriously questioning that now. He just needs an extra set of hands, to hold Grace while he cleans himself and the house up. Grace, sick and missing her father, refuses to be more than five inches from him. He needs backup. With a resigned sigh, he picks up the phone.

"Storybrooke library, this is Belle, how can I help you?"

"Belle." An involuntary smile steals across his face. "It's Mr. Gold."

"Hello, how are you?" Belle asks warmly. "I see you're not in your shop again. Did my orange spice tea scare you away?"

"No, quite the opposite." He glances at the cupboard, smiling as he thinks about the afternoon tea he's begun to enjoy sharing with her. "I bought the blend for myself."

"Oh, good." Belle sounds like she's beaming. "Then what is the occasion for this call?"

"Do you remember the delicate topic we first discussed, when I neglected to return a book?" He says carefully.

"Of course." Belle says quickly and Grace chooses that moment to scream at the top of her lungs.

"I could use some help." He says wryly, when Grace finally quiets.

"I'd say." It sounds like Belle is clambering around the library. "Give me ten minutes, I can meet you in your shop."

"Not the shop." He flinches as Grace yanks a lock of his hair. "My home. Neither of us are… Fit to be seen in public."

"Oh." A little taken aback, Belle pauses. "Well, I'll need your address."

He passes it onto her, and she warns him she'll need a moment to make sure the library is in order before she dashes out. He assures her that it's fine, and to not bring any clothes she doesn't mind being ruined. "And Belle?"

"Yes?"

"Thank you."

"Of course!"

Fifteen minutes later, he's left the front door unlocked and has Grace in the tub, himself stripped shirtless. The little girl is more content playing the water and has moved to small, occasional whimpers rather than full out screeching. He smiles as he pours a cup of water over her head and she babbles, splashing.

"Hello?" He hears the door open and Belle's voice floats down the hall.

"In the back." He calls.

"Where?" Belle's voice is closer, and he smiles.

"Follow my voice." He encourages. "It's the back bathroom. Way back, to the left, and… Hello."

"Hi." Belle stands in the doorway, eyes wide. She takes in his naked chest, his hair pulled back into a ragged ponytail at the nap of his neck. Grace quits her splashing, staring at the newcomer, finally silent.

"Hello." He's not self-conscious around Belle, not even with his bare chest and vomit covered hair. "Belle, meet Grace. Grace, meet Belle."

"It's nice to meet you, little one." Belle kneels in front of the tub and looks at her with a smile, extending a hand. Grace eyes her distrustingly.

"Would you mind watching her while I rinse off? I'm afraid that we had a bit of an incident earlier." He says ruefully.

"Sure." Belle smiles up at him and he carefully stands, grabbing his cane. He's no more than limped out of the room when Grace begins shrieking. He pauses, backtracking into the doorway. Once he's in Grace's sightline, she quiets instantly. He steps out of sight and the shrieking returns.

"Grace." He sighs. "Belle is here to watch you, please let her."

"It's fine." Belle waves a hand. "Neal was like this when Mary Margaret went back to teaching. Go, shower. She'll either scream herself hoarse, or she'll forget about it."

"Are you sure?" He hesitates.

"Go." Belle shoos him. "Go, I can handle a screaming baby for ten minutes."

"Alright." He flinches as he steps away and the screeching returns. However, when he gets out, the house is startling quiet. He quickly pulls on slacks and a button down shirt, limping as fast as he can through the house, looking for them.

"Ba, ba, ba." Belle is babbling to Grace, who's sitting in her high chair and regarding Belle with skepticism. She's dressed in warm footie pajamas, her curly blonde hair still damp. The burnt mac and cheese is in the sink, while a pot of soup is boiling. Belle is chomping up vegetables. "Va, va, va. Fa, fa, fa."

"Interesting." He remarks, relaxing and leaning against the counter to rest his knee from it's recent exertions. "What language is that?"

"It's nonsense." Belle doesn't even turn. "Grab carrots?"

"What on earth are you doing in my kitchen?" He questions, opening the fridge and pulling the carrots out.

"Making chicken noodle soup." Belle declares, tossing the celery into the pot. "Because you're going to get sick soon if you don't eat something healthy."

"I was being healthy." He protests, only mildly offended. "I was making us mac and cheese."

"You were burning it." Belle states and Grace looks between the two adults like she's never seen anything like them. "This is better."

"Fine." He throws his hands up. "Take over my domain. How on earth did you get her to hush?"

"I told you, she screamed herself hoarse." Belle says simply, then turns to show him her drenched shirt. "We made amends after this. I established myself as the alpha."

"How?" He snickers.

"I took her out of the bath, and put her pajamas in the dryer. By the time I got her dry, they were nice and warm. It's a trick I pull on Neal all the time." She reveals. "Nothing better than warm pajamas and then some snuggles. We could give her some baby Tylenol before bed, but she's not feverish yet, just fussy."

"Do you have a secret baby?" He asks, surprised at how well she takes care of Grace.

"No." That makes her laugh. "No, but I've been frequently dumped with Neal and Robin. I'm not sure why I'm the de-facto babysitter in this town, but I don't mind." Belle nuzzles her nose with Grace and to his amazement, Grace squeals with pleasure and reaches for Belle.

"She likes you." He raises an eyebrow.

"I like her!" With a big smile, Belle lifts her up out of her chair.

"Up!" Grace cheers and Belle raises her high, making silly faces. Grace giggles, then when Belle lowers her, reaches for Gold.

"Seems she likes you better." Belle smiles and hands her over.

"Yes, well, this is built on a lifetime of trust." Gold takes her and settles her expertly on his hip while Belle finishes adding veggies to her soup. "She's taken to you a lot faster than she ever did to me."

"You seem to be her devoted favorite." Belle grins at him. "So don't get too jealous. Why'd you need some help?"

"She was hysterical." He sits in a chair heavily and Grace rests her head on his chest, though she watches Belle carefully, a fistful of Gold's shirt in her little hand. "Dinner was burning, I was covered in vomit, I needed a moment of peace, and you're the only one who knows about her existence."

"Backup." Belle clarifies, getting a sippy cup for Grace, and two wine glasses for herself and Gold.

"Exactly. I have a good white." He points where the wine is and Belle uncorks it, pouring them both glasses. He smiles at how naturally she moves about the kitchen, getting juice for Grace. "Sometimes you can't do it by yourself."

"Yeah, I know the feeling." Belle gives him a funny look. "Well, I'm glad you called. How long do you have her for?"

"Over a week." He flinches as Grace buries her face in his chest when Belle offers her the cup, grip on him tightening. "I should trim her nails."

"We'll do that when you're not sick, little one." Belle dips to kiss Grace's head when she puts the sippy cup on the table and Gold is suddenly hit with a wave of her. Heat does radiate off her body, along with the smell of old books and something floral. "Why so long?"

"Her father is in Greece. I mistakenly thought this would be a cakewalk, much like all the other times I've minded her. First couple days, wonderful. Now I think she's starting to realize it's taking longer for him to come back, and this afternoon after her nap, she screamed for him till she made herself sick." He rubs her back.

"Ah, do you miss your daddy?" Belle hands Gold his glass of wine. "I know the feeling." Before he can ask, she turns back to the soup.

They eat and that seems to settle Grace. She refuses to leave Gold's lap, but she lets Belle feed her and drinks her juice. Then, apparently quite tuckered out from her day, she begins to snooze on Gold's chest while they retire to the living room.

"I'm afraid I'll be here all night." He jokes and Belle chuckles, setting down her third glass of wine to pick up the remote.

"Then I'll find a good movie for you." She assures him, flipping through the channels. He relaxes back, muscles loose from the wine, Grace a reassuring weight on his chest. Belle settles on some action flick involving super heroes and draws her feet up onto the couch. After some fidgeting, she slowly nudges her toes under his legs. He raises an eyebrow, but his eyes remained fixed on the TV and he doesn't stop rubbing Grace's back. The only change is a small smile at the corners of his mouth. Belle settles in, grinning.

 **AN:** Because we were robbed of mama and papa Gold and I need to remedy that, dammit. Leave reviews! Part 2 will be up in a week!


	2. Chapter 2

Belle hefts the groceries up onto her hip, carefully flipping through her keyring to find the one she seeks. It's small and brass, old and gorgeous. She slides it into the lock and carefully turns, letting herself into the house.

She's greeted by Grace barreling towards her, hands outstretched, shrieking in happiness. Belle quickly sets the bags down on the bench and kneels so she can receive Grace's excited hug.

"Hello little one." She nuzzles Grace's neck. "Oh, did someone just get a bath?"

"We both did." Gold says dryly, appearing and Belle grins at him while Grace runs back for him, chattering in nonsense excitedly.

"Should I sniff you too then?" Belle teases, carrying the groceries past him. "See if you smell like baby shampoo?" She leans in and takes a whiff. He smells like spice and something else that's entirely man, with hints of polish from his time in the shop. She leans back, eyes wide, to find his whiskey eyes on her.

"Do I?" He asks lowly and she gulps, hurrying past him to put the groceries away. It's become a habit of their's, that whenever Grace is over, Belle moves in for the duration of the little girl's stay. This time Jefferson is in Russia, and is attempting to navigate his way back. It's been a week and though Grace is getting antsy, it's nothing compared to Belle's feelings.

Of course, lately, the visits have been harder. It's not easy to conjure lies about where she is after hours, especially as the school year ends and Mary Margaret has more free time to visit with her friend. But Belle doesn't dare share any glimpse of where her time is truly spent. She doesn't want to do anything to harm Grace, or this friendship she has with Gold.

"What else did you do today?" She asks, with forced lightness, pulling items out to make supper. Gold sets Grace in her playpen with her toys so he can assist Belle.

"We watched some Sesame Street this morning." He shakes his head. "R was the letter of the day, in case you were wondering."

"I was." Belle grins at him.

"Then we went and walked around my garden once it warmed up… I think my hopes for flowers this spring have been dashed." He shrugs. "Then we had lunch and went to the shop. She took a nice nap."

"That better not mean you're going to stay up late tonight little one." Belle calls to the baby, who beams up at her, waving her stuffed elephant.

"Finished up work, came back here, decided to visit the woods, found lots of dirt and mud, and come back here for a bath. That is how you found us." He smiles at her and Belle smiles back.

"You know, you could always leave her with me in the library if you'd like to get more work done." Belle offers carefully. "I've got a pretty good setup in the back from Neal. I'd be happy to."

"Ah, I think she'd still miss me." Gold says easily and Belle knows enough to drop the subject, just offering Grace a smile to say 'I tried'.

After supper, the adults are having their customary glass of wine, watching as Grace plays on the floor. Belle nudges Gold with her toe and he glances up at her, an eyebrow already raised.

"How'd you get so good with kids?" She asks bluntly and he looks slightly taken aback.

"A natural talent I suppose." He says carefully. "Children don't see the sins like adults do."

"But what sins do you have?" Belle protests, her lips perhaps too loose from the wine. "I hear you have so many, scary Mr. Gold, the beast of main street. But I see you with Grace sleeping on your chest and you buy me new tea blends and you offer rides to people when it's raining and they don't have the right coat."

"I suppose when you have to battle with people about money, things quickly turn ugly." He says carefully and Belle remembers her promise to David, months ago, about not bringing up the rent. She throws caution to the wind.

"That's why the Nolan's don't like you. Because they think you're unfair to Emma." She levels him with a firm gaze. "Why don't you explain things to them?"

"It's complicated." He stares down into his wine.

"Explain it." Belle urges.

"You know about Grace, isn't that enough of my secrets?" He snaps.

"No." Belle leans forward so she's closer to him. "No, I want to know them all."

At loss for words, Gold looks for their best distraction, Grace herself. Except she's nowhere to be found. Moment forgotten, Belle and Gold exchange a look and then both scramble off the couch, calling out,

"Grace!"

"Gracie bear!"

"Little one!"

"Where'd you go?"

"Grace!"

"Where are you?"

"Baby girl, where'd you go?"

They both search the house, Belle's footsteps and Gold's tapping of his cane getting more frantic as they begin yelling for each other.

"Did you lock the back door?"

"Yes! Is she hiding in the kitchen?"

"No, did you check the laundry room?"

"No, she's— Oh, here she is." Grace is sitting in a room Belle's never been in. She's intently studying a rocking horse, as though debating what her chances are of getting on it. Belle slowly turns, taking in the room, while Gold snatches Grace up. She screams in protest, kicking to be let down.

"No." He says sternly to her. "You can't ride that."

"What is this?" Belle asks, running her fingers along the spines of the many books. She notes, with awe, how rare many of them are. Then she stops, seeing a framed photo. It isn't a stock photo or a print, which marks it as an anomaly in the Gold household. It's also shocking, making her blood run cold.

"My study." Gold says quietly. "I must've left the door cracked."

"Mr. Gold," Belle's voice is trembling as she plucks the picture from it's spot. "Why do you have this?" She turns and extends the photo towards him.

It's Emma, a much younger Emma Swan, holding a dark haired baby that can only be Henry. At her side is a similar youth, a young man with shaggy brown hair and a grin. His arm is wrapped around Emma and the baby, while the other is clearly holding the camera up while the little family beams into it. It's his eyes that stop her; they're the same deep, warm brown as Mr. Gold's.

"Ah." He sets down the still wailing Grace, seemingly uncaring that she latches back onto the rocking horse. "That's… That's… I don't… Belle… It's best you leave."

"Oh no." Belle roots herself to the spot. "I want to know why the hell you have a picture of my friend here. Why? Are you some creep?"

"Do I look like one?" His eyes flash. "Is that the kind of monster you think I am?"

"I want you to explain!" Belle shakes the photograph. "Explain it, damnit, and stop keeping so many secrets from me! I don't keep them from you!"

"My secrets are much worse." He snarls and she stares him down furiously. "And what's stopping you from spilling them to a town that hates my guts?"

"Because I am your friend." Belle spits it almost against her will. "Because I wouldn't do that, if you'd just trust me."

"No." He says firmly. "No, no, you have no right knowing that."

"Fine." Belle crosses her arms. "I'll go get Emma. She has every right to know, considering it's her in the picture. And Henry!"

"No." Gold lunges forward and Belle catches him before he can stumble on his bad knee.

"Ok, fine." She backs off, seeing his face contort in pain. "Ok, it's not a big deal, ok? Here, sit, don't hurt it worse."

"I'm fine." He grumbles but even Grace is drawn over in worry. He picks her up, reclining in the chair and Belle sheepishly puts the photo back, feeling like she's intruded and wrongfully so. She's tidying up the rug that Grace had been playing with when he speaks again. "You asked how I got to be so good with children."

"Yes." She looks up, surprised, and his attention is focused on Grace, rather than her.

"I was a father."

"What?" Belle wants to fall over in shock, but instead she sinks down on the little couch in the study. The more she looks around, the more mementos she sees. A crude carving of a bird. The rocking horse. A pair of bronzed baby shoes. These items, so intimate and personal, are hidden from the rest of the house.

"To a wonderful boy." Gold manages a smile. "He was a good son. Smart kid, loving. Kind. But we had fundamental differences. He wanted to see the world. I wanted him to follow a more traditional route. He asked me to come with him. I denied him that. It drove a wedge between the two of us and I didn't hear from him for a couple years. It felt like an eternity. Then, one day, I received this photograph." He flips the frame over and removes the photo from it, offering it, facedown to Belle, so she can reading the writing on the back.

' _Papa,_

 _Meet Emma and Henry. I get it now. You were trying to do what was best for me._

 _B.'_

"Your son… Is Henry's father?" Belle's head is spinning. "You're Henry's grandfather?"

"Yes." He sets the photo carefully back in the frame where it belongs.

"Then why does Emma hate you? Why do the Nolan's? Why don't you see Henry all the time? How come you never told me? How come he never did?" Her mind is racing with questions.

"He doesn't know." Gold reveals and Belle stops, staring at him in awe. "My son passed away, suddenly, from a blood clot. We were so close to reconciling and then, he was gone." He clutches Grace close to him, closing his eyes and unbidden, Belle finds herself kneeling at his knee.

"I'm so sorry." She says honestly.

"It's alright." He takes a deep breath. "It's been a decade but it's never left me. He's never left me. But he never told Emma who I was. As fate would have it, Emma decided to come back to where he was raised, with my grandson. I've watched them, for the last decade, grow up, right under my nose."

"But how has no one told her?" Belle demands. "How does she not know you're his father?"

"Because no one knows who Henry's father is." He looks at her with a pained expression. "You count yourself as her friend. Tell me, what do you know about the man who fathered Henry?"

"I, uh…" Belle hesitates. "I know that they met in the city, that he was a couple years older than her, that they got along really well, and that Henry was a welcomed surprise. She told me his name once, but it wasn't Gold, or I would've made the connection."

"No, he changed it." Gold gives a humorless chuckle. "He didn't even give Emma the correct name, Henry has her last name. So can you imagine, that I live no more than ten miles from the only living link to my son, and yet I have no place to say anything? To claim his as my own?"

"Why don't you?" Belle demands. "Why are you rude to Emma and the rest of the town then?"

"Because at first, my grief was unbearable. He was my only child." Gold presses his face to the top of Grace's head. "The mere thought of him ached, let alone seeing his image be wheeled around town by a girl who had no idea I even existed. Then, I realized that the stories he must've told her… She saw me as a monster, without even knowing who I was. So I went with it."

"You shouldn't have!" Belle protests fiercely. "You idiot! They're your family!"

"I don't deserve a family." He says plainly. "I abandoned my only child and it cost him his life. Why would I be anything but a disappointment and hindrance to Emma and Henry? No, it's far better I stay their foe."

"Oh my god." Belle puts her head in her hands. "You are… Insufferable. Are you actually kidding me? Henry would love to know you! He always talks about having a father or his father."

"His father didn't want Henry to know me." Gold looks at her with anguish. "I can't disrespect his last wishes Belle. So I will keep my distance. And Emma can never know that the reason why her rent is so high and so strict is because half of it goes toward's Henry's college fund."

"It what?" Belle's jaw drops.

"Yes." Gold opens a drawer and hands her a tiny booklet. "Half of Emma Swan's rent goes monthly to this savings account. I contribute the same amount. When he is 18, I'll give him the bank account and tell him the truth. Then he'll be an adult and can do with that what he wants."

"Holy…" Belle says weakly, looking at the amount on the last page, the most recent deposit. "So Emma has no idea- no clue- that not only are you Henry's godfather, but that every time she cusses you out for making it so difficult to raise Henry… You're doing the exact opposite?"

"It's perhaps not the right thing." He puts the booklet away. "But I am selfish. And if I keep her in a strict lease, I keep Henry where I can watch out for him."

"So that red bike 'Santa' gave him and no one would admit to buying him?" Belle feels woozy. "And the anonymous donation to the school to rebuild the playground when he was upset it got destroyed in the storm?"

"I only want his happiness." Gold says quietly. "I don't ask to be a part of it, just to ensure it."

"Oh, this is too much." Belle slumps over, holding her head in her hands. "Cover Grace's ears, I need to swear."

"Come on sweet girl." Gold hoists Grace up. "How about we go lay down for bed?"

"I need another glass of wine." Belle mutters, as Gold leaves the room. She stares at the photo of infant Henry, wondering if the little boy knows just how close the family he longs for truly is. Then, with a sinking heart, she thinks of Gold, his lost son, and his lonely existence. With a renewed sense of purpose, she follows him to Grace's room. Usually, once the little girl is down, Belle heads to her own apartment. But not tonight.

"There was no need to stay." Gold looks up at her in slight alarm, when he closes the door to Grace's room, her nightlight casting a glow bright enough for Belle to see the slow rise and fall of Grace's chest.

"Not for her, no." Belle reaches her hands out and carefully pulls him into a hug. "But for you, yes."

* * *

He wants Belle. God, he wants Belle. That's all he can think about, in his haze of alcohol and misery. Two days a year, he allows himself to do this. Two days out of the whole year, used for this purpose and this only. The day he met his son and the day he lost him.

He wants Belle. He wants her soft, comforting arms. He wants her wonderful smile, her nearly overwhelming body heat, the way her laughter is a remedy to him. He wants to hold her close and let her leech away his pain, like she seems to be so good at.

But he doesn't have Grace. He doesn't have their wonderful distraction, the best excuse to invite her over and draw her in. He needs her and he's not sure when it happened, but now she is the only thing on his mind, so he picks up the phone.

"Belle." He tries not to slur when he picks up. "Belle, is that you?"

"What's wrong?" Belle asks instantly. "Is it Grace? Do you have her? Is everything ok?"

"Not here." He mumbles. "I… Drunk. Belle, please."

"Ok, ok, ok." It sounds like keys are jiggling. "I'm on my way right now. The door better be unlocked."

"I love you." He confesses abruptly, but the dial tone is the only answer he receives. Ten minutes later, he's still clutching the bottle of whiskey and the photo of his son and grandson, when Belle flies in, eyes wild.

"Are you ok?" She demands, kneeling next to him. Her mere presence soothes him and he loosens his grip on the photo slightly. "What's— Oh. Oh, no." She carefully takes the bottle, then helps him stand. "Come on. Let's go to bed."

"Belle." He whispers, anguished.

"I know. I know." She repeats, trying to reassure him. "I'm here. I know."

She finally gets him in bed and he clings to the photograph. Instead of leaving him, she promptly crawls in next to him and if he wasn't so drunk, he'd be acutely aware of the mint green slip dress she's wearing. She must not have even put on real clothes in her haste to get to him. She sits beside him, draws his head into her lap, and runs her fingers through his hair, singing to him quietly.

"Belle." He whispers, once the world has stopped spinning. "Belle, how do I keep getting older when he never will?"

Her hands momentarily stop, before she resumes again. "I don't know. I don't know how life can be so cruel. But soon, I'll be older than my mother ever was, and that can't be fair either. There's no fairness in this world."

"No." A single tear slips out. "There isn't."

"Which is it?" She asks, after a long silence. "Which day are you trying to forget?"

"His birthday." He mumbles, the pain making it hard to speak once again. "9:17 pm, he was placed in my arms. My son. My son!"

"Shush." Belle dips to press her lips to his head, much like she does with Grace. "Shush. It's ok. It's ok."

"What would I do if I lost you?" He asks the universe, mostly as a dare. It's taken everything from him. It might as well take Belle.

"You never will." Belle's voice betrays her utter tenderness, as she draws him close. "Never. Shush, sleep. I won't leave you once, I promise."

And so he does sleep, lulled by her promise, her soft voice and delicate fingers reassuring him that she'll keep it. For the first time he lost his son, he doesn't dream of him, have nightmares that wake him up in a panic. He just sleeps, and gets true rest.

When he wakes up, Belle is gone, but a pounding headache commands most of his attention. He flinches, rolling out of bed. He's half convinced, as he stumbles to the bathroom, that he dreamt her presence. But then he hears something that stops him dead in his tracks.

Someone— Belle, it must be her voice— is singing, from the direction of his kitchen. In disbelief, he changes direction and walks in, staring at her in astonishment. She's making omelets with peppers and ham, singing some catchy pop song in a beautiful acapella.

"What?" The word slips from his mouth before he can stop it, astonished. Belle turns and he's sure there isn't a man in the world who would blame him for collapsing at the sight of her. She's still got that mint green slip on and it's tantalizingly short. She's got one of his shirts pulled on over the top of it, with her hair in a messy bun.

"Sorry." She says instantly. "If you don't want me here, I can leave."

"No, no, no." He says hastily, then coughs and tries to backtrack. "The, uh, omelets. Finish them?"

"Ok." Belle gives him a hesitant smile.

"I'll go… Clean up." He says lamely and departs to the bathroom, practically shaking. He showers off quickly, doing his best to make himself presentable when the urge to vomit is ever present. When he gets out, the smell of strong coffee draws him back to the kitchen.

"You ok?" Belle asks him softly when he sits down heavily.

"No." He says honestly and her hand rests on his shoulder as she sets a mug in front of him.

"Do you want to talk about it?"

"No."

"Alright." Softly, she fixes his plate and hers, before sitting down across from him. They eat in silence, mostly because all of Gold's attention must go towards making sure he doesn't vomit up his food. When he's done, Belle goes to clean up, but he stills her hand.

"Belle." He says gently. "I can do this. You've done enough for me."

"Are you sure?" She watches him carefully. "I don't think… I just want to make sure you're ok."

"I will be." He promises her, getting up and grabbing the dishes. "Thank you for taking care of me. I apologize for any boundaries I overstepped by putting you in such a situation. I completely understand if you never want to see my face again." He takes care to hide his pain from her as he places the dishes in the sink.

"Ok." Belle says heavily and he freezes, sure he's going to hear the slam of the door momentarily. He doesn't expect Belle's arms to wrap around him from behind and then squeeze tightly, securing herself to him. "Do the brave thing and bravery will follow."

"What?" He asks weakly, wanting to turn around and look at her in confusion, but not daring.

"I'm going to tell you two things, you stubborn man, and then you can run away or do whatever, but first I need you to hear these." She says firmly. "First, you need to tell Emma and Henry who you are. They need to know that they have family, and they need to know about who your son really, truly was. They will not reject you. Well, Emma might. She holds a mean grudge. But Henry will be delighted, beyond so. Trust me."

"I can't." His mouth has gone dry. "I can't do that, he'll hate me, they both—"

"No, they won't." Belle presses her face into his back and he savors the heat of her. "Please promise me that you won't keep trying to got through this alone anymore. You can't, it's only going to hurt you worse. They deserve to know. Think about it. He wouldn't have sent you that photo if he didn't want you to be a part of their lives. They deserve to know. And you deserve to share memories of him."

"The whole town hates me." He whispers. "They'll do the same. It's better— easier— keeping them at a safe distance."

"They will see the real you." Belle gently turns him so he's looking down at her, wide eyed. "I did. And then they'll grow to love you for who you are."

"That's not possible." He searches her blue eyes, seeing only his reflection back in them.

"I did." She says quietly and he's quite certain that if her arms weren't around him, he'd fall to the ground. "I love you, honestly. And I can't watch you in this pain anymore. I love you, so please. Let me in."

"Belle." He gasps and she's just holding him, not pushing, not demanding, just standing there and watching him. "You don't… You can't…"

"I can and do." She says stoutly. "I have, since that day you called me and I saw you taking care of a sick Grace. I love you. I will always love you. That's all it is. All there is. And if you don't love me, I'll go. But I want you to know. And I want you to go to your family."

He can't think of any words, because logic defies this situation. There's no rationale for why someone like Belle, who is stunning and sweet and kind and young and whole and wonderful, so wonderful, would ever love a man like him. It's simply not possible.

"Why?" He finally manages and Belle tilts her head ever so slightly.

"Why do I love you or why should you go back to them?" She asks softly, then reaches up to run her hands through his hair and he shivers. "I love you because my soul doesn't know how not to. And you should go to them because you don't deserve to be alone, ever again."

"I love you too." He says, dazzled. Then, slowly, because this is just a dream and he is going to wake up soon, he bends down to press his lips against her's.

She's wonderful, soft and supple, tasting like dark coffee. She leans into his and winds her hand into his hair to deepen the kiss, until he's utterly lost in her. She is his devotion, his strength, his weakness, his everything, in one kiss, in one moment.

When she leans back and looks at him, her face so innocent and worried, about him, of all people, and he knows that there isn't anything in this world he wouldn't do for her. So he takes a shuddering breath, swallows hard, and nods. Her face splits into a smile.

"Ok." She whispers, pulling him close. "Ok, let's go find your family."

 **AN:** Ok, part two, dun dun dun... Please leave me reviews, let me know what you think, and part three in one week...


	3. Chapter 3

"It's fine, it's fine, it's fine." Belle whispers, holding tight to his hand. "It's fine, it's fine, it's fine!"

"It is not fine!" He hisses back, clinging tightly to her, as though letting go will send him adrift in the bay. Belle gives him an exasperated look. "They are going to go running out of the restaurant at the mere sight of me!"

"Tell them you're footing the bill." Belle says cheekily and he gives her a dirty look. "C'mon, stop pouting. It's going to be good. And if not, you're still getting seafood." She stops him outside the doors on the docks, the chatter of the restaurant audible even from here.

"I'm not ready." He says flatly. "This was a mistake."

"Hey," Belle reaches one soft hand up to touch his cheek. "It was not. Now c'mon. You've got everything you need. Let's go inside and meet your grandson."

"I love you." He mutters and Belle smiles, kissing him.

"I know."

When they walk into the restaurant, most of the chatter briefly dims. Rumors have been swirling, of course, that Belle French, librarian, has taken up with Mr. Gold, monster, but until now, it's been unconfirmed. The sight of them, Gold in his nicest suit, holding a briefcase, and Belle, in a pretty gold dress and sky-high heels, is cause for a second look.

"Belle." Mary Margaret, sitting at a table with David, Neal, Henry, and Emma, stands, looking a little shocked.

"Hi!" Belle says cheerfully, tugging him over. A waiter appears and manages another chair and they squeeze into the two empty seats.

"I didn't know he was coming." David says stiffly, managing just a curt nod in Gold's direction.

"Well that's why I gathered us all here." Belle says primly, folding her napkin in her lap and smiling as the waiter pours her water. "Thank you."

"Hi Mr. Gold." Henry glances at his mother, who's gone rigid. "What do you have in the briefcase?"

"Henry." Emma glares at him sharply.

"No, no, it's quite alright." Gold is shaking, and Belle puts a hand on his good knee to steady him. "It's actually for you, young Henry, if your mother and family will permit me to tell a story."

"Belle?" Mary Margaret looks at her and Belle leaves off making faces at Neal to look around at all of them solemnly.

"Trust me, it's one you're going to want to hear." She gives Gold a reassuring nod and he takes a deep breath.

"Perhaps some of you know me as the town recluse. I'm sure you've heard stories and rumors and gossip. But there's something you don't know about me, mainly because I usually threatened death on those who brought it up." He takes a deep breath, looking to Belle for support. She nods encouragingly and so he goes on.

"I had a son, once. His name was Balin, but I called him Bae. He grew up, right here in Storybrooke, and went to the same schools you do Henry. I was young, and poor. It was before I'd worked myself into power in this town. He was a wonderful boy, and he grew into a wonderful man. However, when he was ready to head off to school, we got into a fight.

"He wanted me to leave Storybrooke and all that I'd built here. He wanted to travel the world, see it's wonders. I wanted him to go to school, get a law degree, make something of himself. He left. I fumed. We never spoke again. And is it my greatest regret."

"Why are you telling us this?" Emma wonders. "Not that it's not touching and that I don't feel for your loss, but what does it have to do with any of us?"

"It has everything to do with you." He says softly. "You moved here because Henry's father was born and raised here, right?"

"I don't want to talk about that." Emma says abruptly, but Mary Margaret places a hand on Emma's arm, wide eyed. It seems she knows where this is going.

"Trust me, I don't mean to bring up such an intimate topic but," Hands shaking, Gold opens the briefcase and hands Emma his most cherished possession, the photograph of their family. "I believe you knew him as Noel."

"How," Emma's voice is trembling. "Do you have that?"

"Noel," Gold keeps pulling out photos of his son growing up, spreading them across the table. A lifetime, played out in photos. "Is Balin. He is my son, making Henry my grandson."

"What?" Henry demands and Mary Margaret shoos away the waiter who's come to take their orders.

"I'm sorry to tell you in such a public fashion." Gold looks at Emma, who's picked up a photo of baby Balin, jaw dropped. "But I was unsure if you'd meet me anywhere else."

"Are you my grandpa?" Henry demands, as Emma hands Mary Margaret the photo, as if in a trance.

"Look, it's Henry. It looks just like Henry."

"Oh my god." Mary Margaret plucks it from her grasp. "It does."

"Ok, then answer me this." David says harshly. "Emma's your daughter in law or whatever. Why were you such a hard ass to her then?"

"Again, it's not something I'm proud of, but when Emma came and I realized who she brought with her…" Gold glances at Henry, who's been quiet for most of this meeting. "I knew losing my grandson would bring me as much pain as losing my son. So Emma, I did everything I could to trap you here, but you have to understand, it's because I was too cowardly to tell you the truth. I thought that because my son had never told you the truth, he didn't want me to be a part of your life."

"He talked about you, at the end." Emma says, still dazed, looking at the photos. "He talked about how he wanted to make amends. That's why I came here, but I couldn't find anyone with his last name, Black. Not Gold. God, that's so like him!" She suddenly bursts and Gold chuckles.

"Yes, that's his sense of humor." He remarks and Belle squeezes his hand. "But Emma, I do owe you an apology, and an explanation. Your rent was… Steep, and I was quite harsh when I gathered it. More than once, I heard remarks about how I forced you into borderline poverty, and that I was taking away from your ability to provide any savings for Henry."

"Yeah, you were." David's arms are still folded and his face is blotchy. Gold says nothing, but slides the small book he'd once presented to Belle across the table to Emma. Emma reads through it, the wrinkle between her eyebrows deepening as she finally understands.

"What?" Henry demands as Emma puts her head in her hands, handing the booklet to David. "Mom, what does it say?"

"That, young Henry, is your college fund." Gold says softly. "Or whatever kind of fund you'd like it to be. I won't make the mistake of telling you your future like I once did."

"That is… A lot of money." Mary Margaret stares at it, then at Gold, in astonishment. "That's your rent Emma, every month!"

"Half." Gold's face is red now. "I do need to pay property taxes. I contributed the other half."

"What?" David drops the book.

"He is my grandson." Gold looks at them all, a little hurt. "I was planning on giving him the money on his 18th birthday. I figured that it was the least I could do."

"The bike!" Henry bursts suddenly. "You got me the bike, I knew it wasn't Santa!"

"Yes." Gold smiles at him, a little shyly. "Yes, that was me. I overheard you telling someone at Granny's."

"Oh my god." Emma moans. "This is too much."

"You're doing better than me." Belle pats her shoulder reassuringly. "I had to swear a little."

"Mr. Gold is my grandpa." Henry seems to be in a state of awe. "I have a grandpa and it's Mr. Gold."

"I have a father in law and it's Mr. Gold!" Emma puts her head down.

"No, you never married Noel." Mary Margaret says reassuringly. "Or Balin. Whoever."

"I'll take the drink menu." Belle instructs the hovering waiter cheerfully.

"This is too much!" Mary Margaret stares at Belle. "Are you dating him?"

"Yes." Belle says calmly, apparently oblivious to the staring of everyone around the table.

"How?" Emma demands and Belle holds back a smile.

"Trust me, that story may be even weirder than this one."

"Does this mean I can come hang out with you in the shop?" Henry questions and Gold glances at Emma.

"I would be delighted but that's up to your mother."

"You know, he really did adore you." Emma says, picking up a photo of Balin. "You Henry, but you too Mr. Gold. Being a dad meant the world to him. I'd like to think that he'd approve, more than anything, of Henry knowing his grandfather."

"Emma," Gold reaches across the table and takes her hand. "You can't possibly know how much this means to me."

"Well, lower my rent and I'll get a clue." Emma jokes and that makes everyone smile.

"Wait." Henry pips up. "Belle, does this make you my grandma?"

"Whoa," Belle protests as Emma and Mary Margaret burst into startled laughter. "Let's stick with just Belle for now, alright?"

"Sure." Henry grins at all of them and the waiter finally darts in to take their orders.

"Thank you." Gold mutters in her ear and she turns to him, smiling. "Thank you for giving me my family back."

"Of course." She gives him a quick peck on the lips. "Is there room in it for me?"

"Oh Belle." He slides an arm across her shoulders and pulls her close, beaming at Henry. "You're already in it."

 **AN:** Ok that's all folks, unless someone sends me prompts and I am so obliged to write more. Drop me a review, I had a lot of fun writing this one!


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